


Things You Said At 1 Am

by Jhnlck



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Pining Sherlock, Sad Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:37:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jhnlck/pseuds/Jhnlck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1 am is never a good time to be alone with ones thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Said At 1 Am

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dinge, die du um 1 Uhr morgens gesagt hast](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6477991) by [gingerbatch33](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingerbatch33/pseuds/gingerbatch33). 



“Do you regret anything?”

The question was almost inaudible in the dark bedroom. 

“Mhm?” asked John, who was almost asleep.

Sherlock stayed still for a long time. Slowly he turned away from his partner and repeated the question with different words.

“Do you regret, having done something. You know what I mean. Running around naked in uni or eating an entire box of ice cream. Aren't those things, that people regret to have done?”

“You do know that people don't actually do that?” said John while yawning and turning to Sherlock.

“Eating the ice cream?”, came a reply from the dark curly head that was peeking from under the blankets.

John had to laugh. “No! Running around naked!”

“Oh. How should I know that?”, asked Sherlock, shrugging.

John pondered for a moment and scooted closer to his flatmates back.  
He lay his hand on the much too thin hip of the dark-haired man.

“I don't regret much, but every promise, that I ever gave and had to break. All the people whom I promised to save them,” John had to take a breath and then he wrapped his arms around Sherlock to form some kind of protecting shell. “I promised to not let them die. I regret that I lied.”

Sherlock breathed out hard.

“It’s not your fault, that they don't live anymore. You gave them hope. Hope they didn't have.”

“Yes, I know.” John said and hid a sad smile in his partners neck.

“It’s just the thought about how helpless one feels. I was the only one who could help them and I just stood next to them and watched how they passed away.”

For a long time the room stayed silent. Neither Sherlock nor John spoke a word or moved beneath the blanket. You could think they fell asleep.

“I regret telling you the truth.”

Sherlocks deep voice pierced through the dark room.

“What are you talking about?” asked John, confused and sleepy.

“I-I should have never brought you in such a situation.”

With these words Sherlock stood up, out of the warm sheets, that the two men only have been sharing for two nights now. He grabbed one of his carefully folded designer trousers and left the room.

John, who sat up in the bed while these events unfolded, just heard how the front door closed after Sherlock. What did just happen. John didn't know what to make of it. Did he say something wrong? Did he do something wrong, when he pulled the dark-haired man into the still foreign bedroom?

John sprang from the bed and ran his hands through his hair. Should he leave Sherlock alone? He was a grown man after all, no matter how often he tried to behave otherwise.

“Goddammit, fu-“

With fast steps, John rushed to the front door and grabbed his jacket, that had been hanging alone on its hook now. Why bother to change into different clothes? Something happened to his best friend and John was convinced that it was his fault.

***

The air was icy at 1 am. Rain lashed onto Johns face and made him shiver from the cold after just a few steps. Without thinking too much he chose the way to Regent’s Park when he stood in front of the black door that read “221 Baker Street”. His instinct wasn't going to disappoint him when he finally stood in front of a frozen pond. Completely drenched, just like John, Sherlock stood there and smoked a cigarette.

John drew closer to Sherlock with slow steps, to give him a chance to tell John that he wanted to be alone. John would comply, even though very unwillingly. Sherlock, however, stood still at the same place, stubbed out his cigarette with his black shoes and immediately lit up another one. John could hear the sound of Sherlock inhaling the smoke deep into his lungs. 

“I’m sorry Sherlock. I didn't want you to feel like this. I-“, John started to apologise. 

“I can’t do this!”, said Sherlock, as he turned around. “I don't want you to go.”

Sherlock was even paler than usual. John couldn't claim that it was the cold alone though.  
Sherlocks eyes looked so empty. The eyes of a person that was terribly afraid.

“Who said anything about leaving? Listen Sherlock. If I was too fast, then I’m sorry! I didn't want to harass you. We can do this thing between us slower. Seriously! Please come back. It’s much too cold to stay out here.

“Please don't go. I-I cannot.”

With these words Sherlock hung his head and hid his face in the hand that wasn't holding a burning cigarette between its fingers.

“Sherlock, are you- Oh god. Please, don't cry.”

John raised his wet arms and carefully came closer. Slowly he wrapped his arms around the dark-haired man and hugged him.

“Shh… I’m going nowhere. There’s no place like with you.”

Sherlocks arms reached around the older and John nearly didn't hear his voice.

“Everyone leaves. You too, when you see how I really am. He said-“

“Who said what, Sherlock?”

Sherlocks voice grew even smaller, than it already was.

“Moriarty”

“Moriarty? Moriarty is dead!”  
“Not here.” Sherlock said, gesturing to his temple and cramping his eyes shut. 

“Every time, when I sleep, he stands in the west wing and waits. Every single time, went I look at you and try to save a memory in your corridor, he's there and waits until I ruin everything. And every damn time, when I feel how you touch me, I can hear him. His words make me throw up!”

John looked in Sherlocks tearstained face.

“I didn't know- I… What is happening in your head, Sherlock?” John nestled his hand to the cheek of the great detective. “Who do you trust more? The person that slept in the room above yours for years now, that brings you tea and withstands you beautifying the wall with a gun and that loves you for it or do you believe the shadow in your mind palace? The monster that you killed. For Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and for me. I’m not leaving, except you say to my face that you never want to see me again. No, scratch that. Even then I wouldn't disappear from your life.”

Sherlock stared at the blonde in front of him. His body was completely stiff and his eyes couldn't stop blinking, as if he was not sure, whether the person in front of him was really there.

“You- You love me?!?” 

John had to laugh.

“Oh yeah, you giant idiot! I do. Come home, so that I can make you tea. Please.”

Johns face was grabbed by two strong hands and ice blue eyes stared into his own.

“John Hamish Watson. I’m going to kiss you now.”

And John was never happier.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the author for letting me translate this great fanfic. :)


End file.
